Carrie At The Streetlight Club Ch 01

I was twenty-four when I walked into the Streetlight club in Mayfair, looking for a job in a bar. I was struggling to pay my rent -- London is an expensive city. I was single, with a young son, and I needed to earn. I was also beautiful -- small and dark haired, with curved hips, white skin and pert breasts with soft rosy nipples and full pink lips.

The first time you see the Streetlight, as a young woman, you are taken aback. The Streetlight is underground, in a grand part of London. You walk down a flight of carpeted stairs, around a corner, and suddenly the sounds of the business of Mayfair are gone and you are at the reception desk of an underground bar and club. There, on the front desk, is a Russian girl of 28. She is wearing a tight black waist incher and high heels. Her large, round breasts hang proud in front of her. Her lips are painted red.

'Can I help you?'

I tried not to look at her nipples. It was really hard not to as Nadia kind of juggles her tits forwards as she speaks, as if she hopes you will take them in your hands and play with them as you chat. I like tits. I just try not to show it.

'I'm Carrie. I have an interview with Moira.'

'Through the curtain, take a seat in the bar.'

Nervously I pushed a heavy velvet curtain aside and went through, half expecting to find a room full of pumping arses and feasting girls, but my imagination was running away with me - the bar was nearly empty.

I sat in the bar, at a seat behind a table and waited. It was quiet, warm, plush. It was a place for rich men. The lightning was red, flattering. The bar area as carpeted, like the stairs, so the whole place had a velvety atmosphere. There was a girl leaning on the bar, and another walking though, on her way to something. They were both long-haired, naked to the waist, tits exposed, their bottoms barely covered by tiny miniskirts, their legs encased in fishnets and stilettos. One of them was black. She waved at me. 'Hi, I'm Stacy.' She had an Australian accent and a body like Venus. I swallowed. She looked so confident. I wasn't in that class. Should I leave now?

A girl sat beside me, suddenly, as if she'd had to make herself come in and had turned to jelly when she got here. 'Hi I'm Emily. Are you waiting to see Moira?'

'Yes. You too?'

'Yes. What is this place?'

'I thought it was just a bar job,' I said.

Emily nodded. She had blonde hair, a pretty pink mouth, a Barbie doll face. 'Me too. I work as a waitress at a restaurant along the way, but I've been dating the boss and it's gone sour. I need another job fast.'

'Oh dear,' I said. 'I need a job too. The hours are quite good for me?

'What, 9pm till 3am? It's a bit horrendous, said Emily.

'It's a lot of hours to be paid for,' I said, and my son only needs a babysitter, not a nanny. He won't even know I'm gone.'

Emily swallowed. She looked nervous. 'I'll tell you what, shall we make a pact? We'll both give it two weeks?'

We shook on it.

Moments later Moira arrived, and I started to wonder what I had let myself in for. Six nights a week, said Moira, we must show up here. We would paint our fingernails and we would shave everywhere. Everywhere, she added, pointedly. We would get our tits out, and we would chat to men who came into the club and persuade them to buy us champagne, lots of it. Then, if they liked us, they would take us through to the restaurant and dance area, where we would sit in a cubicle with them and spend the evening helping them enjoy themselves.

I swallowed, 'in the cubicle?'

'That's right,' said Moira, 'don't look at me like that. This isn't a knocking shop.'

'Oh...'

She saw my face. 'Look, she said, 'you're a big girl. The men aren't angels. They're bored. They're away from their wives. They want a nice time. But we don't want fucking in the restaurant. You keep your hands out of sight, just a little touch under the table. If Nigel, sees any funny business he'll have you in his office before you can say 'I'm a virgin.'

'Who's Nigel?'

'The manager. He will expect to fuck you I'm afraid. There's not a lot I can do about that.'

'But I...' I met Emily's gaze again. She smiled. I liked her. Nigel could fuck off, I thought. He wasn't fucking me...

Now, Carrie, tell me about yourself.'

And so, I told her. I am twenty-four. I was married but it didn't work out, and now I look after my son. I have worked in a few bars, I like it. I like people. I like talking to men.

'Do you like sex?'

'Of course.'

'What sex do you like? Be explicit. When did you last have sex...'?

'I...,' oh God. It never occurred to me to lie. 'Last night.'

'I thought you weren't in a relationship.'

'I'm not I... it was a casual encounter.'

'Tell me about it.'

I looked at Emily. I took a deep breath. 'I was on the bus last night. The Number 11. It was quite late, I had been for a job interview in a bar in Camberwell, but it was too far from home. There was only me and an old man on the bus.'

'How old?'

'Maybe sixty, maybe seventy. He looked at me and he smiled.'

'Go on.'

'I... one thing led to another.'

'Describe.'

'I... told him I was a bit tipsy and he mustn't take advantage.'

'And were you?'

'Slightly.' And I told them both all of it.

As the bus rocked through North London, he had leaned towards him, told me I looked like a good girl, and he needed help, and would I sit with him? And I got that feeling I get with old men, and I looked him in the eye and said how can I help you, sir?

He said I don't suppose you're ever a bad girl are you, and I said oh, no, and then he got out a wedge of cash. And I didn't have my rent this week and I stared at it.

It's two hundred pounds, he said, and when he took my hand and slid it through his fly, I didn't stop him. Inside his cock curled, warm and soft, like a dozing piglet. I let the warmth of it soak into my hand.

And then something happened. I just... his cock was warm and solid and beautiful, and he said it was waiting for a bad girl, and if I'd like to be just a little bit bad, he'd look after me all the way home, and I could feel the lust running through me like a river.

And I don't know if it was the two hundred pounds of the feel of his cock, but I started to coax and stroke his warm fat cock as he whispered, 'oh yeah... you dirty girl, feel my cock...'.

I played with him for about a quarter of an hour, stroking and teasing, and as he sighed and whispered, 'oh yes, that's good...' I got hotter and hotter. I wanted to do more than feel. I wanted to see and suck and lick and gobble. I wanted him racked with spasms as I glugged down his load. I wanted.....

I think I'm a very bad girl, I said, and I knelt at his feet and looked up at him. I think I deserve to be told what to do.

I don't think he had expected that. As I started to run my thumb over his glans to spread the precum he moaned 'suck it', and I pulled his lovely prick out of his trousers. It was the fattest, loveliest little cock I have ever seen. Older men have such beautiful tools. 'Oh', I said, 'master.'

And he said I really was a bad girl and to work for it. I didn't say anything. I sighed and started to lick it and stroke it and work it gently with my hands. And he shuddered as the bus swung on and I moved to suckle him, opening my mouth to his fat knob as if I was a feeding baby. Soon, as the taste of his lovely, swelling cock aroused me, I was gobbling like a porn star, grunting and slobbering as his cock sprang to turgid life and he ordered me to work harder..

I didn't really need urging, I took him right down, I was on him like an animal, sucking and moaning, sliding him deep into my gullet, deep-swallowing on him so that he felt the muscles of my throat contract around his throbbing shaft. I caressed his balls as I pleasured him, feeling him start to fatten and strain as I fucked him with my face. His cock, smooth and throbbing, pushed into my throat, down past my gag reflex, I could feel him stroking me, stretching and straining as I worked him, fucking, fucking, fucking.

Soon he began to shudder, and, desperate for it to last. I slowed and played, taking his balls into my mouth as I loved and adored his hot gorgeous prick... and as I drew him towards his climax, he grabbed my head, forcing himself deep into my throat as he thrashed like a man gasping for rescue, and I rescued him, allowing him to work throat like a piston. And as I caressed his balls, I could feel them starting to contract, sensed his shaft swell as the salty cum burst out of him, and as it fountained into my throat in multiple thick creamy spurts, I swallowed it lustily, licking every drop.

And then I got off the bus.

I stopped. Moira was breathing heavily.

'And?'

'I went home.'

Emily was staring at me with an expression I can only call lust. 'Why?' She asked.

I was bright red. 'I can't help it. It's a problem I've had ever since my father in law fucked me whilst I was using my vibrator. It was the best sex I had ever had. I had been playing and I was just tipping into the most fantastic orgasm when his cock came out of nowhere and forced itself in, and rode my cum like a piston engine. He drove his cock into me and thrust on me whilst I crammed a flannel into my mouth to silence my screams. If I was cumming when he started I was on the ceiling when he finished. He was sixty and ever since then... I just can't resist. I pick them up all the time. I even write on an adult erotic website in the hope that older men will contact me and let me suck them, just once. Of course, I try to restrict myself to sucking. Otherwise I just lose control.

'Jesus,' said Moira. 'You like old men. What about girls? Would you eat Emily's pussy if I asked you to?'

Emily gasped. 'Don't I get asked?'

'I'll get to you in a minute. Would you?'

I turned bright red. 'I don't know. Maybe.'

'Emily?'

'She totally can,' said Emily. 'She's the hottest thing I've heard all year.'

'Excellent,' Moira stood. 'Strip, both of you.'

Shocked, we stood too, removing our coats, our jumpers, our jeans and then, self-consciously, our bras and pants. Then we stood, naked, and she looked us up and down. I realised I would eat Emily right now if she wanted me to, push my tongue into her lovely muff, and the though shocked me completely, but she was gorgeous. Skinny, fair, athletic but with the loveliest pert little tits with really fat teats.

She saw me staring, held my gaze. I watched her colour rising, saw her nipples stiffening...oh God, I thought. Old men's cocks and now this...

Moira cleared her throat. 'So, you think you could work here?' she asked.

Emily giggled. 'If Carrie stays, I'm in.'

'Carrie?'

'Oh yes.' I was only half listening. I wanted to step over to Emily, cup her small pointed tit and put my mouth on that luscious fat nipple.

'..at nine o clock,' said Moira.

'Wh...what? Sorry. I didn't hear.'

'You're hired, says Moira. 'I'll see you this evening.'

All the way home, when I should have been feeling a sense of horror that I had just promised to work in a topless nightclub, where men might occasionally, as Moira put it, expect a little touch under the table, all I could think of was the joy of all the cocks I would soon be feeling and the promise of Emily's beautiful teats.